us to follow him.
‘You’re not giving us the test here?’ Rage asks as we turn into the corridor.
‘No,’ he says. ‘We need reviveds for the test.’ He looks back at us and his eyes glitter. ‘
Lots
of reviveds.’
Rage and I share a worried glance, then trail Master Zhang through the building. He stops off at a small storage room to pick up a couple of rucksacks, then leads us outside and over to Waterloo
Station. We pass one of the speakers along the way, but he doesn’t bother to turn it off.
‘What’s that noise?’ Rage winces.
‘I’ll tell you about it sometime, if you pass this test,’ I grin, delighted to know something he doesn’t.
Zhang leads us up to the station concourse. This used to be one of the busiest train stations in London, but now it’s home to hundreds of resting reviveds. The mindless zombies are
scattered around the concourse, squatting, sitting, lying down, or just standing, waiting for night to fall. It’s strange to think that so many of them are on our doorstep. I haven’t
seen any since I came to County Hall.
I stare at the old ticket machines, the shops and restaurants, trying to recall what it would have been like back in the day, wanting to feel nostalgic. But it’s getting harder to remember
what the world was like, to treat the memories as if they’re real, rather than fragments of some crazy dream I once had.
‘This is a very straightforward task,’ Zhang says. He points towards the far end of the concourse, to an open doorway at the rear of the station. ‘I want you to race to that
exit. If you make it out in one piece, you pass the test.’
‘That’s all?’ Rage frowns. ‘But that’s too easy. The zombies won’t attack us. They know we’re the same as them. Unless these are different to the ones
I’ve seen elsewhere?’
‘They are no different,’ Zhang says. ‘I did not arrange for them to be present, or interfere with them in any way. These are the usual residents, reviveds who have chosen to
base themselves here.’
‘Then what’s the catch?’ Rage asks.
‘The rucksacks of course,’ I tell him.
‘Correct,’ Zhang says. He passes one of the rucksacks to me, the other to Rage, and gestures at us to put them on.
‘I still don’t get it,’ Rage growls. ‘They’re not heavy. They won’t slow us down.’
‘They are not meant to slow you down,’ Master Zhang tuts, then drives the fingers of his right hand into the rucksack on Rage’s back, making five holes in it, before doing the
same thing to mine.
The scent of fresh brains instantly fills the air and my lips tighten.
‘This isn’t good,’ Rage mutters as the heads of the zombies closest to us start to lift.
‘If you stood still, they would come and examine you,’ Zhang says. ‘When they realised that the brains are stored in your rucksacks, they’d let you be – reviveds do
not fight with one another – and stand nearby, waiting, hoping to finish off any scraps that you might leave behind.’
‘But we’re not going to stand still, are we?’ I sigh.
‘No,’ Zhang says. ‘You are going to run.’ He pokes some more holes in our rucksacks. ‘
Now
.’
Rage swears under his breath and shoots a dirty look at Master Zhang. Then, since he has no other choice, he runs towards the zombies, who are stirring and getting to their feet. And since I
have no choice either, I race after him, closing in quickly on the growing, undead wall of snarling, hungry reviveds.
EIGHTEEN
Rage barrels into several of the zombies, sending them flying. They howl with anger and excitement, more of them becoming alert, catching the scent of brains, closing in on us,
fangs bared, finger bones twitching.
I take advantage of the confusion Rage has caused and angle to the right, hoping to slip by unnoticed. But other zombies who were sheltering on the platforms have heard the noises and come to
investigate. When they spot me tearing by, they clamber over the ticket barriers
‘You’re not giving us the test here?’ Rage asks as we turn into the corridor.
‘No,’ he says. ‘We need reviveds for the test.’ He looks back at us and his eyes glitter. ‘
Lots
of reviveds.’
Rage and I share a worried glance, then trail Master Zhang through the building. He stops off at a small storage room to pick up a couple of rucksacks, then leads us outside and over to Waterloo
Station. We pass one of the speakers along the way, but he doesn’t bother to turn it off.
‘What’s that noise?’ Rage winces.
‘I’ll tell you about it sometime, if you pass this test,’ I grin, delighted to know something he doesn’t.
Zhang leads us up to the station concourse. This used to be one of the busiest train stations in London, but now it’s home to hundreds of resting reviveds. The mindless zombies are
scattered around the concourse, squatting, sitting, lying down, or just standing, waiting for night to fall. It’s strange to think that so many of them are on our doorstep. I haven’t
seen any since I came to County Hall.
I stare at the old ticket machines, the shops and restaurants, trying to recall what it would have been like back in the day, wanting to feel nostalgic. But it’s getting harder to remember
what the world was like, to treat the memories as if they’re real, rather than fragments of some crazy dream I once had.
‘This is a very straightforward task,’ Zhang says. He points towards the far end of the concourse, to an open doorway at the rear of the station. ‘I want you to race to that
exit. If you make it out in one piece, you pass the test.’
‘That’s all?’ Rage frowns. ‘But that’s too easy. The zombies won’t attack us. They know we’re the same as them. Unless these are different to the ones
I’ve seen elsewhere?’
‘They are no different,’ Zhang says. ‘I did not arrange for them to be present, or interfere with them in any way. These are the usual residents, reviveds who have chosen to
base themselves here.’
‘Then what’s the catch?’ Rage asks.
‘The rucksacks of course,’ I tell him.
‘Correct,’ Zhang says. He passes one of the rucksacks to me, the other to Rage, and gestures at us to put them on.
‘I still don’t get it,’ Rage growls. ‘They’re not heavy. They won’t slow us down.’
‘They are not meant to slow you down,’ Master Zhang tuts, then drives the fingers of his right hand into the rucksack on Rage’s back, making five holes in it, before doing the
same thing to mine.
The scent of fresh brains instantly fills the air and my lips tighten.
‘This isn’t good,’ Rage mutters as the heads of the zombies closest to us start to lift.
‘If you stood still, they would come and examine you,’ Zhang says. ‘When they realised that the brains are stored in your rucksacks, they’d let you be – reviveds do
not fight with one another – and stand nearby, waiting, hoping to finish off any scraps that you might leave behind.’
‘But we’re not going to stand still, are we?’ I sigh.
‘No,’ Zhang says. ‘You are going to run.’ He pokes some more holes in our rucksacks. ‘
Now
.’
Rage swears under his breath and shoots a dirty look at Master Zhang. Then, since he has no other choice, he runs towards the zombies, who are stirring and getting to their feet. And since I
have no choice either, I race after him, closing in quickly on the growing, undead wall of snarling, hungry reviveds.
EIGHTEEN
Rage barrels into several of the zombies, sending them flying. They howl with anger and excitement, more of them becoming alert, catching the scent of brains, closing in on us,
fangs bared, finger bones twitching.
I take advantage of the confusion Rage has caused and angle to the right, hoping to slip by unnoticed. But other zombies who were sheltering on the platforms have heard the noises and come to
investigate. When they spot me tearing by, they clamber over the ticket barriers
Similar Books
